


gotta tell you what a state I'm in

by cinderlily



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: Mike entered the locker room with the look of someone walking the Green Mile. He had been sure of his decision, so very sure of it, until he started to look around the room. Watching Blip and Omar looking at a video on Blip’s phone. A group of the guys watching the Indians game on the TV. Ginny seated at a table with a piece of paper on it. He was about to ruin it all. But it was his decision, he had to remember that.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outruntheavalanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/gifts).



> _A warning sign_   
>  _I missed the good part, then I realized_   
>  _I started looking and the bubble burst_   
>  _I started looking for excuses_   
>  _Come on in_   
>  _I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in_   
>  _I've gotta tell you in my loudest tones_   
>  _That I started looking for a warning sign_
> 
> _Coldplay - Warning Sign_   
>    
> 

Mike entered the locker room with the look of someone walking the Green Mile. He had been sure of his decision, so very sure of it, until he started to look around the room. Watching Blip and Omar looking at a video on Blip’s phone. A group of the guys watching the Indians game on the TV. Ginny seated at a table with a piece of paper on it. 

“Guys listen up,” he said, loudly. Two or three people turned but most were too busy talking to actually hear him. He tried again, his voice so loud it actually echoed back at him. “GUYS, LISTEN UP.”  
   
Everyone turned, a few grumbling, mostly just looking at him with curiosity. This was the moment he took the step he couldn’t take back. He inhaled. 

“Team meeting.” 

They all looked at each other for a second before they grabbed their chairs and brought them to a semicircle around him. Mike looked at the men (and woman) who were in front of him. Some were new, some were old, but the only word he could truly access to describe them was his family. He swallowed. 

“I want you guys to know that the decision I made had nothing to do with any of you, and that what I’m doing is more or less for me and my own…” He almost said _mental health_ but that felt wrong. “future.”

Blip spoke up. “You’re freaking us out, Lawson.” 

“Yeah, you’re not shaving the beard, are you?” Burger teased from the middle of one of the rows. His hand went up to his cheek automatically. 

If only that was his big decision.  

“I waived my trade clause,” he said instead, ripping the band-aid off in one swift pull. “My agent and Oscar are currently hammering out some details with the Cubs.” 

The room went deathly quiet, the kind of quiet that made him think of his house after the divorce. The feeling in the pit of his stomach reminded him of being asked for said divorce.. Everyone was looking towards him. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Guys, I want you to know that the sixteen years I…” 

Ginny had stood up. She looked hurt and anxious. Her face was tight and he could see that her eyes were wet. She didn’t say anything, but instead pushed the guys beside her out of the way as she walked towards the locker room door. 

“Ginny,” he tried. She looked over at him for a split second before she reached the door and shook her head. 

A part of him wanted to go charging after her but Blip was the one to do so instead. He stood up and looked at Mike, not angry or hurt but just blank. The door hadn’t even closed as he slipped out. 

“If you’re joking now would be the time to come clean,” Anderson said. 

“It’s not a joke,” he said, his voice feeling distant to his own ears. “Look, guys, these sixteen years with this team have been… everything to me. And I know you might feel like I’m abandoning you but honestly I’m giving you a better chance. You have younger talent, better talent … You don’t need this old man weighing you down.” 

Murphy stood up, face slightly red with obvious anger. “Yeah, so going to the fucking Cubs who are basically on a magic run is supposed to be a gift? You must be pretty shitty at Christmas.” 

Mike looked at the ground just in front of his feet. “It might look bad but …” 

“You’re our Captain, dude,” Omar called out. The guy had been on the team for a month. But a few other players seemed to join in with him. He would be lying if he said that that didn’t feel good. 

He put one hand through his hair and rubbed at the base of his neck. “Guys.” 

“Yeah, we got it…” Anderson said, and as if by group mind meld they all stood up and picked their chairs up, putting them back towards their lockers. 

He didn’t really know what he was expecting, most comings and goings were left with possibly sadness, sometimes inevitability. But he had never been traded before. Born and bred Padres, he’d never left. He knew to himself that meant something, he hadn’t known it would mean something to the guys. 

His eyes drifted to the doorway. His stomach churned. He was expecting Ginny wouldn’t take it well, he had been bonding with her a lot over the season, maybe too much. Hell, _definitely_ too much. But he hadn’t thought he’d see that look on her face. She’d looked like he’d hit her. He looked away as quickly as possible, fear that he might actually get sick on the floor in front of everyone.

He walked to the locker room door, knowing he was going to have to talk to the team again, probably player by player. The paperwork hadn’t been signed yet, he would still be playing that night and very possibly the next as a Padre, but he knew he had to tell them. Knew he couldn’t lie to them. 

No one was in the hallway except a security guard who he’d known for the better part of six years. He looked at him. “Mark, which way…?” 

Mark looked like he had to weigh if he was going to say anything. He might have known him for six years but Ginny was the kind of person who struck up conversations with every guard and worker in this place. She knew him better than Mike ever would. 

“ _Please_ ,” he said.

Mark tilted his head to the left but said nothing. 

“Thank you.” He should send him a gift basket. Of what, he wasn’t exactly sure; he knew if he asked Ginny, she would probably be able to tell him his favorite things. Somehow he doubted he was going to get the right to actually ask her anything for a while. 

He braced himself and walked down the hallway. He looked into each doorway, finding room after room empty. He kept going. It wasn’t even the right direction for the work our rooms or her locker room. He got almost to the end of the hallway before, looking into a room with the door open only a crack he saw Blip standing with Ginny enveloped in a hug. 

She was crying, which might as well have just been a punch straight to his gut. He took a step back and drew in a few long breaths. There was the grown-up side of him that said that he needed to let the two friends have whatever conversation needed to happen and then there was the larger side of him that said he was being fucking stupid. That he needed to take the chance. 

The louder voice prevailed and he took the steps towards the door. He heard Blips voice first. 

“… not about you. He needs to think about his future, Gin. The Cubs have the cash to give him a good deal for a few years.” 

Even though he knew that was one of the reasons he’d given, it still sounded about as appealing as a root canal when stated so baldly. He had always hated players who did this. The money grab for some form of honey pot at the end of their career. 

“Fuck that, fuck him. He… he didn’t even talk to me about any of it. I didn’t know one thing. Do you know how often we talk? And… First he doesn’t tell me about Amelia and now he didn’t even tell me he was _considering_ going somewhere. I thought we were … I thought we were friends.” 

Her voice sounded raw and tear soaked. It cracked a few times and she had to pause for breath. She was right. After the Amelia debacle he’d said he was going to be more honest with her. This? Wasn’t him being honest. He guessed telling her at the same time wasn’t his finest moment. He also knew that saying he essentially made the decision in the matter of a minute wouldn’t help at all. 

“Look, Ginny. Maybe this is for the best. You and he … you relied too much on each other. It wasn’t going to last forever no matter what. You and Duarte seem to talk well, maybe that would be good for you.” 

Mike felt his fist balling up at his side. 

“Come on, Blip. Duarte doesn’t know what he’s doing any more than I do.” 

It shouldn’t make him feel better to hear her say that but it does. His fists relax and he forced himself to relax his shoulders. 

“You guys seemed to talk a lot yesterday, he must have had something to say.” 

She let out a weird mix of a sob and a sigh. “Yeah. He knows lots of things. He _knows_ he misses his girlfriend in Cuba. He _knows_ that he thinks that I need to use my fastball more often. He _knows_ the cheat codes in Halo to get the ‘good’ weapons.

“He can’t tell me which hitter is seeming shaky. He can’t tell me when I should take a breather. He doesn’t even know where my curve generally goes.” 

“He’ll learn.” 

There was a moment of silence and Mike looked in just in time to see Ginny tilt her head and screw her face up in tears again. Through clenched teeth he heard her push out. “Yeah. I guess.” 

Blip, who had let her go, took her back into his arms and gave her a tight hug. There was a moment where Mike considered what his options were, when suddenly Blip’s eyes opened and his head turned to the door. Mike wondered if it was a dad thing, if he could feel someone sneaking into a conversation they were not meant to hear. Instead of calling him out Blip gave him a look that was a clear, ‘Get the fuck out’ and Mike obliged. 

He turned on his heel and started to walk down the hallway, then started to jog instead. He passed Mark and stopped in front of the locker room. There was still well over forty minutes till they would go out on the field. He didn’t need to go in. So he didn’t. He kept walking, feeling the need to be alone. 

*

Ginny wouldn’t look at him. Not that that exactly shocked him, but she didn’t even try to be subtle about it. She looked past him like he was some sort of ghost. He guessed he deserved that. She wasn’t starting that night, so he couldn’t even use that as some sort of annoyed excuse to get her to pay attention to him. Rather he just had to take it like an adult and handle the fact that she was angry enough not to look at him. 

Al, the subtle guy that he was, basically told the team to just act like it wasn’t a thing. That the game was more important than anyone’s moving plans. He felt like hugging the old man when the guys took the advice to heart. Well, most of them. 

“You could have told us you were unhappy,” Blip said, tying his shin guards on. “It’s not like we couldn’t talk about this.” 

“Is this where I reiterate the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ speech, Blip? ‘Cause I usually reserve that for girlfriends…” 

“Screw you, Lawson,” Blip snapped. “I’m the one who has to go home and tell my wife about this. Not to mention my kids. Plus I got to see Ginny break down over this. This isn’t a fucking joke to most people.” 

It wasn’t a joke to him. But he wasn’t built to handle things without letting them be a joke. He rubbed at his eyeballs. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. But it came up and… maybe I was unhappy. Maybe I was complacent. Maybe I just need to bow out gracefully.” 

“Bow out gracefully?” Blip coughed. “You ARE Mr. Padres. The fans are going to shit themselves. Bowing out gracefully would be retiring at the end of the season. Not leaving for another team.” 

Mike didn’t want to think about the truth behind the words. To be honest, in the moment he made the decision he hadn’t thought a lot of things through entirely. He had been going on adrenaline and emotion, the small realities of it had been coming in small doses over the last three days since he made the offer. 

Moving. The fact that he was going from a place that considered 65 degrees to warrant a full length coat to _Chicago_. The fanbase. The people at the stadium. His legacy. He didn’t consider himself to be a dumb person, but the fact that he hadn’t thought about anything outside of the small bubble of himself was not only stupid but selfish. 

It was still too late though. So he had to push forward. 

“I know it isn’t my place to do the voting,” Mike said, eyes focused on his hands and clearly jumping topics. “But I would vote for you for Captain in a split second.” 

“I don’t want the job,” Blip said. 

Mike half smiled. “I wouldn’t say that to your wife or you might be on the couch for a few weeks.” 

“Come back to me when you get that this isn’t a joke,” Blip said, as he stood up. It was nearly time to take the field for workouts but he knew that wasn’t why Blip had gotten up. 

Al walked over. “I’m giving tonight to Duarte.” 

“Coach, this could…” he said, not wanting to finish it with _be my last game_ but Al shook his head. 

“If you’re still here tomorrow you can have it,” he said. “But tonight I need to see what Duarte can give me.” 

Mike gritted his teeth. This was the reminder he needed as to why he wasn’t going to stay. He almost thanked Al for it. 

* 

The dug out was weird. He should, technically, be in the bullpen, helping pitchers warm up but they had been letting Duarte do that for a while, trying to save his knees. He pulled his hat down a little. The guys were talking to him, thankfully, but it was not taking from the cold front that was the chasm between him and Ginny. 

During the third he finally made himself walk the extra few feet and sit next to her. She immediately got up and moved to a space between the water cooler and Buck. He grimaced and slouched in his seat.

He tried again in the fifth but she slipped in her headphones. As a rule headphones weren’t allowed in the dugout but she had an iPad of the hitters for the next day. Why she would need to hear anything that was being said was beyond him but she was making a statement. 

Message received. 

* 

The next day there had still been no signing so he got to the locker room for the normal time for a day game. If nothing else there was no way Ginny could _not_ talk to him today. He was the catcher after all. 

She seemed to get that, at least; when he was done lacing up and getting ready for stretches she handed him a piece of paper, the one from yesterday if he wasn’t mistaken. On it was each of that players with small notes on each one. 

“My arm is feeling a little sore,” she said. “You can call for my fastball but I can’t guarantee that with my arm strength. But my curveball is doing well. My sinker has been doing well, but not to the guys who have a purple highlight by their name.” 

Mike looked down at the sheet again and then back up at her, where she was literally looking down and away from his face. 

“This is usually my job,” he said. “I’ve been watching tape.” 

She nodded, finally making eye contact. “I figured your mind might be other places.” 

“You know, my choices are my choices, I was trying to do what’s best for me,” he said, apparently pretty stupidly, as she looked at him like he’d just kicked her puppy in front of him. 

“You’re right,” she said. “I understand that I don’t factor into your life… Which is _fine_. I’m just trying to make the transition easier.” 

She turned around and walked towards the dugout. 

He’d been married for more than long enough to flinch at the use and tone of the word ‘fine’ but it was really the fact that she said she understood she didn’t ‘factor into his life’ that really got him. That wasn’t what he’d meant when he said it. That wasn’t what he meant at all. 

From beside him he saw Blip shaking his head back and forth like he truly pitied him. 

“What? I didn’t say that,” he said to Blip. “I didn’t say she didn’t factor in.” 

Blip rubbed at his eyebrows. “Man, you were married for forever. You might not have said it but she most definitely heard it. Also, no offense but ‘what’s best for me’? You sound like a fucking asshole.” 

“I swear if I wasn’t leaving I would make you do sprints for freaking weeks,” he grumbled. “Ginny and I are friends. The other guys are taking it okay. What the hell is her problem?” 

He got a stare down. Mike gave him the little shrug of ‘what?’ and Blip shrugged like he had internally decided something. “Okay, _Captain_.” 

He stood up and pointed to the hallway. There was no way he was going to follow him except Blip really looked like he might take him down and that would just be freaking embarrassing. He stood up slowly and, looking around the locker room ‘casually’, followed behind as Blip walked to the same room they’d taken Omar to. 

There was no one in it to kick out this time. He felt a weird sense of deja vu nonetheless. Blip crossed his arms. “You asked for this.” 

“Asked for what?” he boggled. “You know I used Black Yoda as a nickname to mock you, right?” 

“What’s Ginny’s favorite movie?” 

“ _Sandlot_ ,” he said. “She made me watch it as apparently not knowing what ‘Killing me Smalls’ means is a travesty.” 

“When was the last time you talked to her for more than two hours on the phone?” 

He grimaced. “The night before I announced the Cubs thing.” 

“Before that?” 

“The night before that.” 

“And why doesn’t she like cilantro?” 

“It tastes like soap bubbles. It’s a chemical reaction that is dependent on your parent, she gets it from her mom but also she thinks even the look of it is gross…” 

He stopped. Fuck. Yeah. Okay, so Blip had caught onto the whole thing he had for her. 

“You lied to Omar,” Blip frowned. 

“What, you planning on leaving Evelyn for Ginny?” he tried, not impressing Blip one bit. 

Blip sighed. “Dude, how long have you been in love with Ginny?” 

“What the hell are you talking about? I mean, I like her. Apparently too much. But in love? She’s thirteen years younger than me, Blip. When I got married she wasn’t even in sixth grade.” 

He shouldn’t have said that. When he put it that way he always got a little annoyed with himself. Well, more accurately it made him feel a little skeevy. Not that he hadn’t dated all ages, just.. Not Ginny. 

Ginny seemed to be the exception to a lot of his own personal rules, even the ones he’d never thought to set up for himself. He put a hand to his head. 

“Blip, I know what I need to do,” he said, though he didn’t sound that convinced. “I know what she needs here.” 

Blip laughed, loud and echoey in the empty room. “Do you now?” 

“Stop it,” he gritted. “She doesn’t date players.” 

He tilted his head. “And you don’t get serious. How is that working out for you?” 

*

The game was okay. He would make calls and generally she would follow them. She only shook him off once or twice and to be honest he had set those calls up basically to test her. She let up a home run, but she didn’t seem that angry. The offense showed up so she wasn’t playing by herself. 

When he approached the mound during the eighth he was pretty sure he’d get some sort of resistance from her. Rather she nodded and looked him directly in the eye and placed the ball in his mitt. 

She was sweaty and looked more tired than she usually did, her lower lip was its usual slightly chapped self. He’d started to carry around vanilla chapstick just because it was the one she liked best. Her hair was falling from her cap and he thought about telling her to fix it. 

She just stared at him. The Skip came up and gave her a tap out, telling her she had a good game, she broke eye contact with Mike and moved off the mound. She charged towards the dugout, hopping over the white line. He watched as she didn’t stop and just went up the tunnel. His stomach sank. 

There went the last time he caught for Ginny Baker. 

*

When day three had come around and he still hadn’t heard back, Mike went from his normal level of annoyed to full out pissed. He wasn’t one for limbo, the game nor the place. He walked into the locker room and some the guys teased him about just saying he was moving for the attention. 

If only that was so.

He shrugged off the jokes. He was not in the mood to deal with it. 

His phone buzzed at 10. They had a day game. 

It was his agent. “ _Meeting after the game in Charlie’s office. About Chi._ ” 

He blinked at the screen and sent an ‘Ok’ in response. He turned to Blip, who was already reading over his shoulder. Blip put his hand out to fist bump him. “One last game.”

He guessed that was the only thing he could do. He opened the ESPN app on his phone. Chicago was playing the Marlins and were currently schooling the team. He inhaled. He guessed he had to care about that now. Not yet though. Not yet. 

*

He stopped Ginny in the hallway. She resisted but he asked her as nicely he could. He wasn’t a betting man but the fact that he said ‘please’ and met it seemed to have been the game tipper. She was wearing her jersey and her hair up. She had her hat on and she wasn’t quite able to look him in the eyes. 

His stomach hurt. He walked to the nearest free room, leaning in to make sure it was just them. She looked in as well, like he would have missed a giant camera or something. He waited for a second as Ginny looked around the room. 

“Ginny,” he started, she paused and looked down which made him stop because everything he wanted to say felt weighted. 

She looked up at him, finally, and he had thought seeing her would help if she was angry but she really wasn’t. She was sad. There wasn’t the usual defiance behind her eyes, but rather just exhaustion and ache. 

“I’m being called in after the game,” he said. 

She exhaled and looked just past his shoulder. “Okay then. I hope… I hope Chicago is good for you. I hear Rizzo is nice, he and Bryant are punks together, fair warning. I saw Leathersich in the minors, he’s pretty good. Lester is good, though you might have to be more patient. And Miguel Montero is supposedly a great catcher. With you as tandem you can just coast it out and wait for the Series.” 

“You been doing your research, Rook?” he asked, small smile on his lips. 

“So what if I have?” she said, moving her body into a defiant stance. “I didn’t want you to go and not know anyone.” 

He laughed. “This isn’t summer camp. I’ll figure it out on my own.” 

She deflated and he felt… like the dick that he apparently was. 

“Thank you though, for having my back.” 

“It’s what we do,” she said. “Or what we did. I guess everything is in the past now. Don’t think I won’t be throwing my heat when you come to play.” 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to duck out when you plan on hitting me.”

“One time,” she smirked. “And he deserved it.” 

“You’ll never hear different than me,” he said. 

They stood there for a moment before she clapped her hands together and made a motion towards the door. “I guess that’s it. Have a good…” 

He paused her by putting an arm out and bringing her in for a singular tight hug that he was pretty sure was a bad idea from moment one. Even though the overpowering smell was that of sweat off the hat that was probably not cleaned in weeks, he could still smell the soft undertone of shampoo (some shampoo that smelled like beer to him but she she claimed it was the only one that made her hair feel good). 

He ran a hand up her back and she nuzzled into his shoulder, the same as she had with Blip but it felt entirely different than it looked. It felt warm and intimate in a … not Blip and Ginny way. She put her nose on his neck, lifted her head slightly and he could feel her breath on his beard. 

She pulled back. “No, I can’t.” 

Mike felt like he was a little dizzy and by the time he looked back she was out of the room. 

*

Even with the fact his brain was only half focusing on the game, it went pretty well. 

The Padres lost 3-1, the one being a home run off of Mike’s bat. He didn’t know how bittersweet it would feel till he was running around the bases and stopping by each coach to hear a ‘Good job, Lawson’. He heard his name chanted and saw his name on the board lit up. 

No one in the stands knew. The secret had been kept. He tilted his cap to the audience either way. He had given himself to this city and they had given back ten times over. He sat down in the dugout and got a little misty eyed. Blip nudged him and told him that there was a party that night.

Not for the first time that day, he was starting to feel he’d made a big freaking mistake. 

*

After a quick shower and a quicker scrum, he trudged to Charlie’s office. It was like a band-aid he guessed. So he sat down next to his manager and looked Charlie in the eyes. 

“Okay, so when do I go?” 

“You don’t.” 

Mike tilted his head, looking at Charlie like his red hair was actually on fire. “Excuse me?” 

“Heyward has failed his physical, the deal fell through,” Charlie said. “So we’re going to need at least one or two other teams that you are willing to go to for us to work with.” 

There was something caught in the back of Mike’s throat. He looked at Oscar who was covering his mouth with one hand but the little curve of his lips and the crinkle of his eyes gave away the game. Al was flat out smiling, albeit slightly behind Charlie. 

“No Cubs,” Mike said, not bothering to make it a question. 

“No Cubs.” 

“The deal fell through,” he said. 

Charlie looked a little annoyed but nodded. “Apparently Hayward has some shoulder issues and we aren’t willing to take on a 27 year old with shoulder problems, it is a clear downward move so we decided to decline. So the ball is in your court here. We’ve had some offers from the Red Sox, the Indians and the Mariners.” 

“The _Mariners_?” he choked. He had been going for a move up, not a lateral one, at best. But it didn’t matter. The ball was in _his court_. There was a feeling of an elephant moving off of his chest. 

He started to laugh. Charlie gave him a look like he was crazy, his manager looked at him like he was trying to get himself fired _AND_ he was crazy and maybe he was, because he couldn’t stop himself. He was laughing so hard that he had to clutch his side from where a ball had hit him a few weeks back. He _wheezed_. 

Oscar let out a momentary chuckle and so did Al. 

“Am I missing the joke here?” Charlie blinked. 

Mike forced himself to swallow around the next laugh, focusing on his breathing. He hadn’t felt this good in a while. He felt relaxed and good. And sure this was probably going to be a bit of a shit show in the locker room but whatever, he could get over it.  
.  
“No, no sir,” he shook his head. Even the fact that he was calling a _kid_ ‘sir’ didn’t bother him. “But I rescind the waive. I’m staying here.” 

Charlie’s face started to go red. “Mr. Lawson, no offense, but you said that you were willing to go…” 

“To the Cubs. But you know what? I’m good. I’m a Padre. I will be here for the rest of my contract. I’ll play first. Third. Hell, I’ll stand out in the outfield if you feel like a real adventure. But I will be staying a Padre.” He stood up, feeling his knees creak. 

Al gave him a low slung thumbs up and Oscar tilted his head forward in a half nod. His manager scrambled to get up beside him and followed after him, a gaping Charlie at his back. Not that it mattered, not in that moment. 

“Mike, are you crazy?” Davis said. “You just screwed yourself over completely. Even if you do ride your contract out here, there is no way you are getting an extension.” 

Mike walked forward, not looking back. “Like he was planning on giving me another one either way. I’m good. I will be fine.” 

“With your 15% chance of a commentating gig?”

There was a time in his career, hell not that long ago, where that would have launched him over the space between and directly into his manager’s face. But he let go of instead and put his best smile on and nodded. “Yup, me and my 15% chance will be here, in your face till my deal runs out. So you might want to get used to it.”  
 Davis made a noise like a dog toy, high pitched and whiny. He didn’t care. He put his hands up and turned around. He had much better places to be. 

*

He couldn’t be blamed for being late to his own going away party when, in fact, it wasn’t his actual going away party. He left PETCO and got into his car, driving as fast as he thought he could get away with it towards the small restaurant they had decided on (well, that Evelyn had decided on). He hadn’t even finished getting dressed really, so he probably looked like a jerk, his shirt unbuttoned halfway and his jacket a little ruffled but whatever. 

He was staying. He was staying and he wasn’t going to waste this second chance. The image of Ginny from the other day, sad and broken and crying on Blip’s shoulder popped into his brain and even though it made his gut churn he knew, at least, that he could try and make that a singular image. Never to be repeated. 

Traffic was … well. A shit show, like always, San Diego was not the smartest designed city and with the people who macro commuted from up past Los Angeles the time of day was inopportune. He weaved his way on the five, being the kind of dick he’d always hated on the highway. 

Once he got to the Gaslamp district he stopped in front of the restaurant, all but throwing the keys and a twenty at the valet. He would get more later, that didn’t matter. He was going to get through this conversation. He had to go back and get the ticket. The valet looked generally unimpressed. Didn’t he know the penultimate love scene when he saw one? Kids these days. 

He ran to the back of the restaurant where, in the small room that was reserved for them, he was greeted by his entire crew yelling his name. Wives were there, some girlfriends, but no kids. He looked from person to person, trying to find her. But she wasn’t there. Instead he found Blip, which was a definite step down in his books. 

“Where is she?” he asked, still scanning the room. 

Blip sighed and leaned in. “You just missed her. She called a car service.” 

“WHAT?” he called long enough to silence the room. He flushed, a little, and waved at the group. “Hey guys, I’m really glad you’re here. And it’s amazing that you would do this for me. But, apparently you are stuck with me till the end of my contract. Tragic I know. Now I have to go. I’ll see you later.” 

He heard a single ‘WHAT?’ that he could pin to Evelyn, followed by a few other ones that sounded less angry and a few cheers of actual happiness. Didn’t quite matter to him as much as it should. He was running back through the restaurant. There were people’s phones out, he saw them flash as he ran. 

The valet who had had his car a moment before gave him a look like he was going to read a riot act. “It’s going to be a few minutes. I’m alone here. I can’t leave the box.” 

“Where do cars pick up?”

“What?” 

“Like cars… Taxis, limos. Cars. Where do they pick up?” 

He pointed down the street. “Around that corner. I saw the smoking hot Pitcher walk down there right after you went in. Jenny Baker? I think…” 

“Thank you,” he said, and then as he jogged down the road he turned to say. “Her name is Ginny. GINNY.” 

The valet shrugged and stood there. 

He came around the edge to find a long sleek black car, door open and… Ginny. Ginny standing there in a gorgeous dress. Her hair up and her phone in one hand. It was like his whole body reacted to her. He needed to get as close to her as humanly possible. 

“Ginny!” he called out. She didn’t look. “Ginny, WAIT.” 

His knees were pretty pissed at him, he could feel the fact that he was going to get a nice little reminder of his age in the morning but he didn’t mind. She was just about to get in the car when she finally looked. Her face went from tense to blank in the blink of an eye. Which he deserved. He got that. There was no way to say sorry for the fact that he hurt her. 

Sorry was just a word, he’d learned that from his childhood. The only way to mean it was with time and the best thing was he _had_ it. He had time. 

He got just close enough to put his hand on her shoulder, the door still between them. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside?” she said, her voice raw and tired. 

“I’m where I’m supposed to be,” he said. He leaned in and their lips almost met but not quite. He put his hand behind her head and pulled it in. A first kiss was important, he thought absurdly. The amount of first kisses he’d shared in his lifetime and maybe three had felt important. But this one did.

He inhaled the scent of her perfume and felt the exhale of air on his upper lip. She was stuttering. He leaned in just a little more and pressed his lip to hers. First it was one long kiss, before it dissolved into just small kisses all over her lips and her face. 

Then, hands on his chest and he was being pushed away. “Are you fucking kidding me, Lawson?” 

She looked pissed enough he wondered if he needed to duck. But instead she took a step back. She had a hand to her lips, and he couldn’t tell he if it was in the good way or the bad. 

“Ginny, I …” 

“You don’t get to do that,” she said. “You don’t get to kiss me and then move across the country. Are you kidding me? That’s not fair. That’s not fair to you and it isn’t fair to me and I am not going to spend my life desperately hoping for your Skype call all the while with you in Chicago living it up… You aren’t going to … What the hell, Mike?” 

He’d started to snuffle a laugh, he couldn’t help it. She was angry, had every single right to be, but he was doing everything in such the wrong order. He leaned over and kissed her, and she let him, even when he paused just before his lips to make sure it was okay. She closed her eyes and kissed him back. 

“I would be pining, too,” Mike said. “Though I’d deny it to the day I died if you asked any of the guys. I would fucking mope at my rental condo, curled up and miserable, waiting for a game against the Angels or the Dodgers to come around so I could sneak down to see you.” 

“You will?” 

Mike shook his head. “I _would_ , Rook. I would. If I was going anywhere.” 

Her face went from a slight frown to a slow revelation of a smile, the dimples showing up. “If you were going anywhere?” 

“Heyward? Didn’t pass his physical. The trade didn’t go through. They asked where I’d go and I was honest with them. Nowhere. They, and you, are stuck with my ugly mug.” 

She laughed, loud and sweet. 

The driver broke in. “Ma’am, I need to… um.” 

She looked at Mike and then at the driver. “You need to take us home.” 

“Does he now?” 

She nodded and tugged on his hand, bringing him into the backseat of the town car.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I said I had a lot of feelings about this episode? Here, have some more. A little more angsty and mostly filled with ~MY FEEELINGS~ as I always do. 
> 
> Thank you so much outruntheavalanche for the beta! <3 She put up with my forgotten notes to self, so she has to be a saint. :) (And I've known her forever, weirdly. Like, LJ level friends. Small baseball filled world.)


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